


Well Worth The Wait

by shungokusatsu



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Breeding, Come as Lube, Established Relationship, First Time, Future Fic, Gratuitous Smut, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sterek if you squint, Stiles is a goof, Top Jordan Parrish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-08 21:02:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7773268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shungokusatsu/pseuds/shungokusatsu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Needless to say, the last four months had been torture for Stiles and Jordan. But mostly for Stiles since being supernatural apparently also afforded one with a superhuman amount of self-control. Sometimes life just wasn’t fair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Well Worth The Wait

**Author's Note:**

> I just needed to get this out of my system. My first work in this pairing/fandom/site, everything! This is just porn, all the way through. It's unbeta'ed, but I did my best to edit it. Enjoy!

They'd been dating for the last four months. The sheriff, naturally, wasn't happy over the fact that his son had decided he was going to date one of his deputies, and as much as he wanted to forbid it, he ultimately knew that Stiles would just date Parrish behind his back anyway. It also worked out for them that Jordan was probably the only guy in the department the sheriff could trust with Stiles. He knew that, deep down, Parrish was a good man, and while he wouldn't admit this aloud to Stiles, he knew that Jordan would do everything in his power to make sure his son was happy.

Jordan had been insistent that he would respectfully keep the intimacy to a minimum until Stiles turned 18, but had said it to the sheriff in a way that didn't get his head blown off. While it's true the Hellhound healed him from being impaled with a rebar straight through the heart, Jordan wasn't going to chance testing his supernatural alter ego's ability to heal from a point blank shotgun blast to the face.

Needless to say, the last four months had been torture for Stiles and Jordan. But mostly for Stiles since being supernatural apparently also afforded one with a superhuman amount of self-control. Sometimes life just wasn’t fair.

Making out was fantastic; for all the restraint and old-fashioned goodness Jordan exuded, there was something innately animalistic about him that Stiles could sense in the way he kissed. Part of Stiles wondered if it was the Hellhound, or if it was simply a facet of Jordan's personality that only he'd been made privy to. If Stiles were allowed to have his way, it would be the latter.

It only made his curiosity stronger, and pressuring Jordan into breaking before he could keep his promise to the sheriff was becoming increasingly difficult. Jordan would pump the brakes immediately once Stiles’ hands began to wander, and the buzzkill was frustrating, but Stiles realized Jordan was merely trying to keep his word. Sometimes he just wanted to see Jordan forsake being good. It was hard enough to stop kissing him once they started, and part of Stiles was a little intimidated by that thought: if he wanted Jordan _this_ much just from kissing him, how much worse would it be once they started having sex? The lizard part of his brain kept screaming ' _there's only one way to find out_!'

And so here they were, an hour removed from celebrating his eighteenth birthday with his dad and the pack. Stiles didn't want to make a big deal of it, even if his dad did, so instead of fighting about it, they compromised on a pizza party. The last thing Stiles needed to hear was Scott quietly making a joke about him finally being a "dirty debutante" as he playfully nudged him with his elbow while wolfing down a slice of pizza. Stiles rolled his eyes as Scott's shifted from him to Parrish, and it’s moments like these that Stiles wonders to himself why he bothers being friends with Scott. But thankfully, the pizza party was over before Stiles' antsy twitching had him kicking everyone out of his house.

The sheriff was well aware of what his son had planned, despite all attempts at denying the fact that Stiles was finally going to seal the deal with his deputy. Grim acceptance was the mask he was wearing before seeing Stiles off with Jordan. It might have been legal now for his son to have sex with Parrish, but the sheriff would be _damned_ if he was going to let it happen under his own roof. He didn't even question it as he watched Stiles sling an overnight bag over his shoulder before waving on his way out with Jordan in tow.

"It wouldn't kill you to be a little discreet, kid," Stiles heard his father call out to him as he closed the door behind him.

~*~

  


Stiles is handsy. It's something Malia could easily have told Jordan — that Stiles' hands wander as much as his mind — and how awkward would _that_ conversation have been? His hands are on Jordan before their lips separate: one on the swell of the older man's ass and the other on his front, and the moment Stiles feels it, he chokes. Because that _definitely_ feels like Jordan is smuggling a can of Coke in his jeans. _And it's only getting bigger_.

_Ahem_. Longer.

And, because Stiles is Stiles, he wonders if being supernatural automatically gives you a license to possess a big dick. Which immediately shifts his curiosity toward Scott and if he has one too, and Stiles violently recoils at the thought, because his stupid brain always works faster than he can react and he's so disturbed by the image that he visibly gags. 

"Are you okay?" Jordan asks.

"Yeah," Stiles answers, voice a little shaky, still a little disturbed from thinking about Scott's dick. "But you're making me wanna do a line of coke."

"Why?" Jordan responds, perplexed. The drug reference completely goes over his head and Stiles has to resist the urge to kiss him for it because he looks so cute with that confused expression on his handsome face.

"Because I wanna take a ride on the white horse." Stiles' eyes are blatantly pointed at Jordan's crotch, and the A-HA! look on the deputy's face only lasts a second before he realizes what in the actual fuck Stiles is talking about and turns beet red. And it only looks worse because Jordan's complexion makes him red from his cheeks, to his neck, and all the way down to his chest, and it's pretty much a full-body blush that Stiles can't help finding endearing.

"That was terrible," Jordan supplies with a laugh.

Stiles shrugs. He knows it. But he wouldn't be him if he didn't use cheesy come-ons. 

He grabs the deputy by the collar, pulling him into another kiss, and it's Jordan's turn to be handsy. The deputy’s hands are big, fingers a bit calloused from hard work and exercise, because it's obvious Jordan goes to the gym — supernatural creature or not, he _still_ has to work on a physique like that. Right? Stiles doesn't think about it too much. Because if being supernatural automatically gives someone a physique like the deputy's got, Stiles just might kill himself. He doesn't need to add more to his list of crippling insecurities, thanks.

Jordan's grip is firm, and both of those large hands are on his ass, squeezing possessively, and Stiles may or may not have whimpered. For all the chivalry and good-naturedness Jordan shows, there is an undeniable darker side to the man. One that Stiles could tell right away was going to be trouble.

Jordan growls his response; a deep, low rumble that resonates from the base of his throat, and it makes Stiles weak in the knees. The older man must have sensed this, because before Stiles realizes what's happening, his long legs are being wrapped around the deputy's slim waist and those hands return to his backside, like Jordan is staking claim, which, _really_ , he is, and daring someone to challenge it. The part of Stiles that thinks dark thoughts and doesn't say them aloud really wishes someone would, just so he can see what Jordan actually does, and he's pretty sure he'd swoon over it.

It's only that moment Stiles realizes they weren't three steps into Jordan's apartment as he's carried toward the deputy's couch. He knows Jordan sleeps on his couch most of the time because of Afghanistan — both tours accustomed him to sleeping on cots, and the stark contrast of the softness of his bed made it nearly impossible for Jordan to sleep. Not to mention the recently revealed memory of blowing himself up and possibly being a walking corpse, which was a mindfuck he still wasn’t ready to wrap his head around.

"You, uh, sure you don't wanna take this over to the bed?" he jokes when they break for air, and Stiles swears if Jordan fucks as good as he kisses, he was going to need to stick a fork in him, for sure. Those green eyes are shimmering as he stares into them, and the flush on Jordan's skin only makes the man sexier than Stiles can stand, and the lack of effort Jordan takes in standing up with Stiles draped on him and walking toward the bed makes Stiles so hard that his head spins.

"Seriously, you need to stop showing off how strong you are," Stiles says, pecking Jordan in the lips before adding, "It does things."

The smile Jordan rewards him with only makes Stiles realize just how bad he's got it for the guy, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he's fine with it. Jordan seems genuinely crazy about him; as much as Stiles is for Jordan, which is more than he can say for the unrequited shit he put himself through with Derek, and Stiles isn't going to think about that Sourwolf when he's got someone making him feel like he deserves all the attention in the world.

It only makes Stiles all the more impatient as they scramble to take off each other's clothes. He takes a moment to appraise Jordan when the older man's shirt goes flying. Long, slender fingers slide their way up every ridge of the deputy's sculpted abdominals, and Stiles has to take a moment to wonder to himself just how he was able to manage making this certifiable sex god attracted to him. He's sure Jordan would've scolded him for even thinking something so ridiculous if he'd voiced it aloud, and Stiles maybe loves him for that, but years of being self-conscious and awkward isn't going to fade so quickly in the face of compliments from his boyfriend.

But that's not to say it isn't working.

Jordan's eyes are lidded, and Stiles can see that Jordan's wanted this for as long as he has. He's pulled into a kiss that's so intense it burns itself into memory, and Stiles forgets that he needs to breathe and actually manages to steal the air from Jordan's lungs when he remembers. His hands stutter as much as his words would if he tried to speak right now, which is why Stiles doesn't dare, and he's fumbling with the deputy's button and zipper like it was a life or death situation.

"Don't laugh at me," Stiles chides the older man, who's watching him and smiling as he's fighting to get his boyfriend's jeans off. When he does manage to get the fly open, the black boxer briefs do little to hide what Jordan is packing.

"Geez, you just couldn't stop at being perfect, could you?" he blurts, pushing down the waistband of Jordan's underwear so he could free the older man's cock. Carefully, Stiles wraps his fingers around it — scratch that, _tries_ to wrap his fingers around it, and Stiles is half-tempted to ask Jordan what he feeds this thing because Stiles isn't even sure he's a size queen, but Jordan is definitely making him mull it over. Almost immediately, the color drains from Stiles' face because he's not sure this is what he signed up for. He's pretty sure taking something this big up his ass is going to make sitting a chore for the next week or so. And forget about walking.

The immature part of his brain is begging him to ask if Jordan's measured it, but Stiles stops himself because he's sure he'd chicken out if Jordan actually answers him and spits out a number in the double digits. Some things are better left unsaid and he's having second thoughts because he seriously can't imagine how all of this dick is going to fit, but Stiles is distracted from his inner monologue when he hears Jordan's breath hitch as he drags his hand across the thick length. 

"You like that?" he asks, and all Jordan can give him is a shaky nod, very aware of the conundrum Stiles is trying to rack his brain with. He must realize being someone's first time with a dick like this is the quickest way to test their bravado, and while Stiles talked a big game, he was mostly bluster. Except for when it came to protecting his friends. 

But this was not one of those cases.

It's at this point that Stiles decides it's nut up or shut up time. When he and Jordan started officially dating, Stiles relentlessly talked shit about getting the deputy naked and having his wicked way with him, and he wasn't going to back out on that, despite the revelation that Jordan clearly had a dick that could star in its own porno flick.

"This is normally the time when I tell you you're overthinking things, but I can totally understand if you're having second thoughts," Jordan says, and Stiles loves him just a little more for saying that.

"I think I'd be a _nutjob_ if I wasn't," Stiles quips, because he's him and he has to make a joke about everything, but it relieves a bit of the tension he's feeling, and they both share a much needed chuckle. It does nothing to make Jordan's state of arousal change, or Stiles' for that matter, and he's keenly aware for the first time of the fact that he's still got his own jeans on.

"Help me out of these, would you?" he says, watching as Jordan complies with a smile, lifting his hips so Jordan could roll the offending garment off of him. The air is cool against Stiles' superheated skin, feeling exposed now that he’s pretty much naked under the deputy.

"God, you're sexy," Jordan breathes out, and Stiles is tempted to counter him with a ‘ _um, have you **looked** at yourself?_ ’ but opts not to, because the look on his boyfriend's face tells him Jordan would fight him on it. There's a lot of rustling around on the bed as they shuffle to get out of their jeans, and when they're finished, they're both — finally — completely naked. Jordan's eyeing him like a piece of the juiciest prime rib he's ever seen, and instead of making him conscientious, it actually makes him harder than he's ever felt. The desire in Jordan's eyes is so palpable, Stiles can’t help trying to telepathically tell Jordan _same_ , because he's sure he'd squeak if he tried to speak right now.

The sound of a drawer opening and closing brings Stiles back from his reverie, and he sees Jordan has something in both hands: in one, a golden foil packet, and a bottle of lube in the other.

"Pretty sure we won't need that," Stiles says, taking the condom from Jordan's hand and tossing it aside. The confused look on the deputy's face only tempts Stiles to grab his face and plant a soul-searing kiss on his lips, but he offers his explanation anyway, "Well, I have it on good authority — thank Wolverine — that you have a healing factor. And before you argue with me about it, remember that time Theo skewered you with that metal rod." He waits for enlightenment to dawn on Jordan's face before continuing, "You were fine a few minutes later, weren't you? So if you can heal from that, then I'm pretty sure you can't catch...you know...stuff."

Jordan shrugs. Stiles definitely has had more experience with supernatural stuff, so if he's saying that his healing factor makes him impervious to disease, then he's not going to fight him on it.

"So, uh..." Stiles stammers, thinking how all the porn he watched should have prepared him for this. Jordan pops open the cap and pours some lube on his fingers, and the way those eyes rove over his body makes Stiles hyperaware of every little sound, from the way Jordan is rubbing the lube between his fingers to warm it up before bringing it to his hole, to his own breath, and the way it catches when Jordan touches him there.

"Ready?" Jordan asks, and Stiles nods, hissing when one long finger enters him. He's done this to himself enough times, telling himself he wouldn't be an awkward virgin when the time finally came for them to do this, but he totally is, and he squeezes Jordan. It makes the deputy's eyes glaze over, and from his periphery, Stiles sees the way it makes Jordan's cock twitch. He pulls Jordan down for a kiss, letting Jordan swallow down a moan when his finger brushes over something inside Stiles that sends a bolt of electricity shooting along the length of his spine. Stiles wants to ask him to do it again, but he can't find the words, his mouth hanging open as he moans when Jordan touches him there again, and the way it makes him tighten around the older man's finger makes Jordan groan.

Stiles can tell this is an exercise of patience for Jordan, having waited so long, away from what they've been aching to do to each other for months now. The deputy's hand moves back and forth, a second finger stretching him more, especially with the scissoring motions Jordan is using to get Stiles to open up. "Fuck..." Stiles mutters, his hands scrambling to hold on to something, one finding the back of Jordan's head and pressing their foreheads together as he starts to buck into the deputy's hand.

"Does that feel good?" Jordan asks, and Stiles croaks out a _fuck yeah_ as he pulls him into another kiss. Jordan is massaging his prostate now, and it feels so fucking good that Stiles nearly comes at the thought of his boyfriend doing this with his cock. He's so hard it hurts, and the amount of precum he's leaked onto his stomach is a clear indication of how much he's enjoying this, and they're both panting as Jordan adds a third finger inside and really gets into fucking Stiles with his fingers.

The stimulation is too much, and Stiles comes without warning, his hole clutching Jordan's fingers tightly as he shudders, spilling all over his stomach. He kisses Jordan hard, his breath flaring hotly and loudly through his nostrils, the sweat now covering his skin making him glisten. Stiles can hear Jordan muttering curses under his breath, like he's fighting the urge to come himself.

"Holy fucking shit," Stiles sputters, panting heavily, only now aware of the fact that Jordan had pulled his fingers out of him. He feels empty and open, and Stiles can hear the slick sound of his boyfriend's hand moving across the thick length of his cock, spreading the lube he didn't use on Stiles on the throbbing shaft. His eyes widen when Jordan collects the come on his belly to taste it, smiling when the older man's eyes flutter shut and moans. But then he's collecting more, this time with the other hand so he can add it to the lube and smearing Stiles' come all over his cock. " _Fuck_ , that's hot," he rasps, his gaze moving between Jordan's heavily lidded eyes to the hand that's stroking the impressive length between the older man's legs.

Stiles is hard again in no time. His lack of refractory period is a blessing (and sometimes a curse, given how many times in the last four months he'd jerked off thinking about this moment). Jordan lines himself up and Stiles can feel the head of his cock pressing into his entrance. Stiles tenses for a moment and Jordan stops, searching his eyes. He kisses Stiles and calms him, and Stiles nods, tasting the remnants of his come from Jordan's tongue. He keeps one hand on the back of Jordan's neck, willing himself to relax when Jordan pushes. Stiles's eyes squeeze shut. It _fucking_ hurts, he's not gonna lie, and he hisses when he feels the burn.

"Are you okay?" Jordan asks. _No, I am **not!**_ Stiles wants to bark at him, because _fuck_ , why did he agree to this? Instead, he nods his head and tells Jordan to keep going, and when he does, Jordan hits that spot that sends shivers down his spine. It makes him tighten around Jordan, who moans at the way Stiles squeezes around him. He pushes deeper still, and the burn of the stretch as Jordan penetrates him actually feels good. Stiles thinks he might be a little masochistic, but Jordan keeps going because Stiles doesn't stop him and he can feel just how wide open he is and it's a mindfuck.

Stiles doesn't think he can go any deeper when Jordan kisses him and reminds him he's only halfway in. " _Halfway_? You're gonna be in my throat by the time you're all the way in," Stiles can't help saying. He wraps his legs around Jordan's waist as he pushes the rest of the way in, making Stiles recite a litany of expletives. He's hissing and growling as the sting of being stretched open so wide starts to dissipate, and all Stiles can focus on is how fucking full he is with Jordan, and the raunchiness of that thought nearly makes him come again.

"Christ, I think I _am_ choking on you right now," he jokes, and Jordan can't help sharing a laugh with him, because _of course_ Stiles has to make jokes even while he's losing his virginity, that's just the kind of guy he is. He pulls his hand back to sweep his thumb across Jordan's cheek and kisses him again, and Stiles can totally feel the throbbing of Jordan's cock inside him. He tests his muscles and tightens around Jordan, hissing at the sharp sting that makes his spine tingle. It makes Jordan grind against him in response, and it makes Stiles moan, because he's sure Jordan is reaching spots inside him that weren't meant to be touched.

Stiles is appreciative that Jordan is giving him time to adjust, but he's sure it's also because the deputy is forcing himself not to come. He feels it in the way Jordan's lips tremble when they kiss, and he's so sexy right now, his skin glistening with sweat as he pants, trying to stop himself from pounding into Stiles like he probably wants to. Stiles drags his nails across Jordan's ass, making the older man groan, and he manages to choke out, " _Move_ ," against Jordan's lips. And that's all he needs.

He pulls back and makes Stiles see stars, and Stiles is so thankful he pushed his intimidation of the sheer size of Jordan's cock to the back of his mind so he can experience this. It still stings when he pushes back in, but it's not as bad as the first time, and Stiles actually moans. Jordan can't resist telling him how sexy he is again, and there's something about his voice that makes Stiles forget his insecurities and just believe him. Stiles can't get over how open Jordan has him, but he can't dwell on that thought for too long because Jordan's constantly moving over his spot and it's making his eyes cross. Stiles closes them instead so he doesn't, focusing on the way Jordan moves, feeling every inch work its way in and out, listening to the way their moans fill the room as the springs of the bed protest beneath them.

"God, you feel so good," Jordan moans against his lips, and Stiles can only nod, crushing their lips together as Jordan finally has enough freedom to really thrust his hips. The deep strokes are almost more than Stiles can take, and he has to bite his lip to keep from moaning so loud because Jordan is going _so deep_. That and because he's not sure how thin the walls of Jordan's apartment are. The last thing they need are dirty looks from Jordan's neighbors, who will most likely complain straight to his dad about the noise, and Stiles will probably want to kill himself when that happens.

That thought easily gets pushed from his mind. Jordan's movements are making sure his prostate is taking a battering, and Stiles can't muffle his moans to save his life. He bites his lip so hard that he breaks skin, but thankfully it's only a small cut. The coppery taste that fills his mouth only adds to everything else, and he wants to tell Jordan how good he's making him feel, but the pleasure from being stretched open like this is erasing Stiles' mind. He can't get over how fucking deep Jordan is getting, and how much better it feels getting his prostate massaged by Jordan's cock.

Just when Stiles thinks he can't take it anymore, Jordan stops moving. Stiles' eyes shoot open, looking up at the older man. He's about to ask him why he stopped when Jordan pulls away, sitting back on his knees and spreading Stiles' legs wide open. Those green eyes are darker than Stiles has ever seen them, pupils blown to the point that there's almost no color left in them. His hips begin to move again, and he's taking his time, drawing out his cock all the way to the head before pushing back in, letting Stiles feel every thick inch stretch him open once again. It makes his eyes roll to the back of his head, and Jordan keeps doing it, his eyes transfixed on the point where their bodies are joined.

Stiles' cock is straining against his belly, untouched and ready to blow at any second. Jordan is driving him absolutely out of his mind, especially with the way his cock keeps punching into Stiles' prostate like it was determined to go right through it, and all Stiles can do is brace his hands on Jordan's knees as he's deeply penetrated. Stiles is overly aware of all the sounds they're making; from the way Jordan growls every time he pushes balls deep, to the way his own moans leave his lips as Jordan withdraws, and the way the bed creaked beneath them. But underneath all that, Stiles notices something else: he can hear the raunchy, slick sounds his hole makes as Jordan fucks him.

The discovery is enough to break his mind, and Stiles comes for the second time without touching his own cock. Impossible as it seems, he comes even more this time, spilling all over himself as his muscles squeeze the life out of Jordan. He can hear Jordan's reaction, muttering curses under his breath as he tries to thrust against the spasms. The headboard starts to knock against the wall as Jordan pumps his hips faster, the sound of skin slapping now filling the room.

"I'm so close, Stiles," Jordan says as he begins to pull out, "I'm gonna c—"

"No!" Stiles shoots out, grabbing Jordan's hips to stop him, "I wanna feel you cum inside me."

Jordan nods, bending forward once more as Stiles' legs slide onto the bends of his arms. They kiss as he starts to work his hips, pounding into Stiles with a frenetic pace. Stiles can feel Jordan's balls slapping against his ass, and he bites his boyfriend's lip. The bed sounds like it's on the verge of breaking, and Stiles is sure Jordan is going to need to make repairs to the wall after all this from the way the headboard is slamming against it. Stiles feels the rumble of Jordan's throat as he growls against his lips, the erratic motions of his hips finding purchase. He feels the way Jordan throbs inside him as he comes. It's so warm, and there's _so much_ , Stiles can feel it coming out of him and dripping down his ass, even as Jordan's hips keep going.

"Well fuck," Stiles hoarsely says, laughing as Jordan finally stills above him. Jordan's eyes are glassy, and his handsome features once again soften to the one Stiles is familiar with. They're both panting heavily, taking in the endorphins as they come down from their high, lazily kissing, moving as little as possible.

"I can't believe you made me wait till my birthday for this," he adds, playfully glaring at Jordan.

"I'm still an officer of the law, you know. As much as I wanted to break it..." Jordan's voice trails before Stiles puts a finger to his lips. 

"You're still hard, and I wanna go again," Stiles says. Jordan shakes his head with a laugh.

"Well come on, Deputy Parrish. Put that Hellhound stamina to good use. We're making up for lost time."


End file.
